Chapter 7 (Dead Men, Daleks and Cupcakes)
“Caleb?” said the Doctor, frowning at him. “How-”
“How do you think?” asked Caleb, looking around him.
The Doctor followed his gaze and almost jumped from his seat. Beside the kitchen counter was a blue and silver Dalek carrying a tray of tea being followed by a Cyberman dressed in a tuxedo.
“I’m dreaming,” said the Doctor, nodding.
“Sadly, yes,” said Caleb.
“I miss you,” said the Doctor.
“I miss you too.”
“You’re just a dream,” said the Doctor. “A construct in my head.”
“You should know not to dismiss dreams so easily.”
The Doctor arched his eyebrows.
“Where’s my little sister then?”
“I think you know the answer to that one.”
“She’s with her father - the Master.”
Caleb nodded. “You know what he’s planning for her, don’t you?” The Doctor didn’t answer. He just continued to stare at him. “He’s taking her to Jacarthia.”
“But why?”
“Why not?” said Caleb. He smiled as a nun with a cats face walked past and handed him a cupcake. “What do you think he’s doing?”
“Taking advantage of Jacarthia’s downfall,” said the Doctor.
Caleb nodded again as he tucked into the cupcake. “Taking advantage. But I think there’s something more dangerous at work here.” He offered a bite of cake to the Doctor who declined. “I think he genuinely cares for Illithia.”
“Don’t be daft, Caleb.”
“Is it so hard to believe?”
“He’s had children before,” said the Doctor, leaning back in his chair. “What makes Illithia so special?”
“Because he failed all of the others. Have you never had a moment in your life where you’ve changed? Where you tried to do things differently?”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Many times.”
“I believe he has reached that point in his life. The point where world-domination isn’t the be all and end all.”
“You really believe he cares for Lilly that much?”
Caleb finished off the cake and nodded. “You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Of course you do. Because none of this is real. It’s all in your head and I’m just a mouthpiece for your subconscious.” He smiled and got up from the chair just as the Dalek trundled towards the table.
“WAKE UP!” screamed the Dalek.
The Doctor opened his eyes and sat bolt upright. The waitress was stood next to his table. She wore a blue, ill-fitting dress with silver piping and smiled down at him. “Wake up, mate. Can’t have people dossing about in here, you know?”
“Thank you, Charlene,” he said, noting the name tag. “I was just resting my eyes.” He looked to the empty seat in front of him and frowned. “What do I do, Caleb? What do I do?”
“Go to Jacarthia,” he heard a voice say somewhere deep in his head. “Go and save her before it’s too late.”
The room was quite possibly the nicest she had ever seen. Even better than the rooms in her own home. The bed had the softest mattress and the fluffiest pillows. The four-poster bed towered over her and the stone walls glittered in the evening sunlight.
She crossed over to the chair where her blue and white dress was draped. She picked it up and smiled at it and then immediately thought better of it and threw the dress back down.
She’d stay in the black one for now. She wouldn’t accept any gifts off him. Not yet.
She crossed to the window and looked out at the view. The whole town looked still and sleepy, but she knew that it would only be a matter of time before the riots would flare up again. That’s if the rioters even had the energy to carry on.
There came a knock at the door. She turned as an old woman with her white hair tied into a bun walked in.
“Are you okay, my Lady?”
“Please, don’t call me that. I’m not a lady here.”
“But the Lord Koschei.”
“He’s not a Lord either.” She realised she had sounded harsher than she attended and smiled softly at the woman. “I realise he has helped you though.”
“He has,” said the old woman. “He found me in the gutter. My husband was a farmer, you know?”
“He died, didn’t he?”
She looked down at the ground. “He did.”
“My husband-” she stopped herself. “Well, perhaps best not to talk about that.”
“He still asks for you,” said the old lady.
“Can I see him.”
“The Master forbids it,” said the old woman. She looked genuinely upset. “I wish I could help.”
“So do I.” She suddenly realised that the old woman hadn’t bustled in with her usual tray of drinks and supper. “What can I do for you, Enis?”
“Oh, yes,” said Enis, smiling widely. “I almost forgot to tell you.” She straightened herself up. “Lord Koschei - the Master -” She looked sorry, “- is on his way back.”
“Oh, joy,” she said, folding her arms and turning away.
“It is great joy,” said Enis, smiling even more widely.
“And why is that?”
“Because, Lady Celestia, he has your daughter with him.”
Celestia turned to the old lady. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Joy, fear, nervousness. He had done it. He had actually done it.
She was going to meet Illithia for the first time.
Many, many years ago…
The Doctor had persuaded - nearly pleaded - for Takmos to let him go and speak to Stakran. Takmos was determined to start shepherding the people into the TARDIS, but the Doctor wasn’t ready to accept that that was the final solution.
A temporary bridge had been constructed allowing people to cross the lake, which Takmos directed the Doctor to. He reluctantly agreed to let the Doctor have a couple of hours to speak to the mayor on the understanding that Louisa and Atom stay with the guard.
“As a hostage?” asked the Doctor, as he tied his shoe-laces up.
“As insurance that you’ll do your best to help us.”
“We’ll be fine,” said Louisa, smiling at him.
“No harm will come to Miss Louisa whilst I function,” said Atom, standing next to her protectively.
“If you even harm a hair on her head…” said the Doctor pointing a finger at Takmos.
“They won’t be harmed, but I seriously doubt you can fix this. Jacarthia is doomed. The only option is for us to leave.”
After saying their goodbyes the Doctor had journeyed around the lake to the rickety wooden bridge. He crossed it gingerly, but it was sturdy enough to take his weight.
He reached the other side and made his way through the narrow streets lined with dull brown and cream buildings that towered over him.
There was another explosion - close this time. He heard the sound of running footsteps and yells and ducked into a small, arched doorway as a gang of people in scruffy clothes ran past the junction in the street.
He finally reached the market square. The stalls were empty. Some of them were burnt and the fountain in the centre had long been switched off, the water in the pond below gathering ash, debris and leaves from the row of silver trees that towered over the market place.
There was another explosion. This time towards the palace. The Doctor looked from left to right, looking for some cover as he heard another load of running footsteps.
“We have him! We have him!” yelled a voice from not too far away.
The Doctor was too exposed here. He tried to run back for the street he’d come from, but instead the previous gang were running down it towards him.
“Now listen, everyone-” said the Doctor, his arms outstretched.
But they weren’t bothered with him. One of them grunted “move” to him and barged past, heading up the long, cobbled, sloping street that led towards the white palace.
The Doctor frowned, waited until they were further away and then followed at a discreet distance.
There were cries of joy the further he got up to the palace. Finally the street opened out in front of him. In front of a clearing of flagstones was a moat with a draw bridge across it which led to the huge archway at the entrance of the white palace. On the flag-stoned expanse a crowd were gathered and at the entrance to the drawbridge was a man with a beard and long, scraggly hair. He wore dark, ripped clothes and his face was grubby. Knelt at his feet was Stakran - his head lowered, he looked completely defeated. He looked up at the crowd gathered in front of him, his face solemn.
“Not so special now, are you?” said the man, tightening his grip around the scruff of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” said Stakran, shaking his head.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” said the man, his muscles flexing.
“Your name’s Farrow, isn’t it?” asked Stakran, looking up at his captor. “You were one of the city guards.”
“Until you brought this all crashing down at our feet,” said Farrow, shaking Stakran ever so slightly.
“You’re not helping Jacarthia,” said Stakran. “You’re a rioter. You’re causing the people of this good town more harm than good.”
“We loot because we have to,” said Farrow. He could sense discontent among the already dejected onlookers. “You were the one that got us into this situation.”
“So you steal from your own,” said Stakran. He laughed at the absurdity of it all.
“We do it to survive,” said Farrow. He pushed Stakran down further to the ground. “But now we have you.”
“And what are you going to do with me?” asked Stakran, attempting to stand but finding Farrow’s boot pressing down against the back of his neck.
“Kill you,” said Farrow, pulling out a long, carving knife from under his belt.
“Wait!” said the Doctor, pushing himself through the crowd and making his way to the front. “What on Gallifrey are you doing?”
“And who are you?” asked Farrow, removing his boot from Stakran and stepping forward to confront the Doctor.
“Someone who can help you.”
“It’s him,” came a voice from the crowd. “It’s the Doctor.”
Farrow broke into a toothy smile and grabbed the Doctor around his throat. “Oh, this is fantastic. Both of you here at the same time.”
“He conspired with the mayor,” came an old woman’s voice from the crowd.
“It wasn’t a conspiracy,” coughed the Doctor. “We did it for Jacarthia.”
“But you made a mistake, didn’t you?” said Farrow, closing his large, fat fingers around the Doctor’s neck.
“I admit, it backfired,” said the Doctor, barely able to talk now.
“Please, let him go,” said Stakran. “Let him talk.”
“Why should I?” asked Farrow, turning back towards the former mayor. “Why should I let either of you continue to bleat and plead for forgiveness?”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” gasped the Doctor.
Farrow closed his eyes and released the Doctor. He fell to the ground, coughing and rubbing at his throat. He looked at the crowd in front of him. This wasn’t going to be a simple do-over and put-things-right-again. He didn’t even know if he could get out of this.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m just asking for a chance to help put things right.”
“After the mess you caused!?” shouted the toothless old lady.
“Yes, after the mess I - we - caused.” He looked at Stakran. “Everything we did we did for the good of Jacarthia. You have to believe me that nobody could have predicted this.” He looked at Farrow and then back to the crowd. “But why are you following this man? He has broken into your homes. He has stolen your property and your possessions.”
“Because we had to.”
“Rubbish!” spat the Doctor. “You’re no better than the forces out there stopping the Jacarthians from leaving this town.”
“Takmos is going to help us. He has a plan,” said a male voice from the crowd.
“Takomos’s plan won’t work,” said Stakran. “You can’t move an entire community in a TARDIS.”
Farrow shook his head. “On this I agree. We need to stay and fight for our town.” He grabbed the Doctor and forced him to his knees. “And it starts with the death of these two traitors.”
The Doctor turned to Stakran and shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, Doctor. We made the mistake. We pay the price.”
“WAIT!” came a shout from the back of the crowd.
Everybody turned. Standing at the back of the crowd was Takmos with Atom and Louisa in tow. The crowd parted and let him walk to the front.
“We can’t run from this,” said Farrow.
“You used to be one of my officers,” said Takmos. “You were a good man once.”
“I still am a good man.”
Takmos shook his head. “If you do this - if you kill those two - you will lose any shred of decency you once had.”
“They must pay. It’s the only way to repair the damage. To start the healing process.”
“Please, Farrow, listen to your commander,” said the Doctor.
“He’s not my commander anymore,” said Farrow.
He grabbed Stakran’s hair and lifted his head up. He drew his knife again and made a motion towards his neck.
There were gasps from the crowd.
And then chaos erupted. Takmos barked out an order and the Doctor couldn’t quite tell what was going on. He saw Farrow release Stakran and yell, running towards Takmos. From the back of the crowd a number of soldiers emerged, firing towards the rioters leader.
From behind them followers of Farrow emerged from the confines of the palace courtyard.
Stakran was knocked to the floor as people trampled over him. He managed to roll onto his back and move out of the way just as another wave of rioters emerged from the palace.
There were cries and screams and the sounds of laser fire and metal on metal.
The Doctor looked up to see if he could see Atom and Louisa, but it was like a huge, mass brawl with civilians trapped in the middle.
“We need to help them,” said the Doctor.
Stakran got to his feet. “We need to get out of here. Now! This place is lost.”
“We can’t just leave them. We did this. We need to put it right.”
“Something’s you can’t put right, Doctor,” said Stakran. “Jacarthia has fallen.”
The Doctor thought he caught a glimpse of Louisa’s hair somewhere in the crowd, his eyes frantically looking for her.
“Come on, Doctor,” said Stakran, heading to the crowd.
The Doctor made for the crowd, still searching for his two companions as a rioter landed next to him - dead. His eyes blank and unmoving.
Other people were falling now and somewhere outside of the town they could hear a low-pitched, ominous siren.
“Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is,” said the Doctor, as they pushed past one of the town’s guards.
“It is,” said Stakran. “I had a feeling it’d come to this.”
“We need to find Louisa and Atom.”
“We need to get back to your TARDIS and get out of here before this town is sterilised.” Stakran pushed past and made for a stone building on the edge of the clearing.
“What are you doing?” asked the Doctor.
“Rescuing my councillors.”
“You have to be joking?” said the Doctor.
“They are innocents in all of this,” said Stakran, forcing a wooden door open and letting a number of older men and women out.
“So are the Jacarthians.”
“But they are a lost cause!” growled Stakran, pointing towards them.
It was as the Doctor followed Stakran’s finger to the crowd he caught a glimpse of Atom. He was being hoisted up by a group of rioters. If he hadn’t know better it would have looked like they were about to give him the birthday bumps.
The Doctor could hear Louisa from somewhere in the crowd screaming for them to stop.
Stakran held him back. “We need to go.”
“No!” said the Doctor, trying to break free. He needed to get to them. He would do anything to rescue them, even if it meant risking his own life.
“Please, Doctor,” said Stakran. “You’re the only one who can steer your ship. We need to leave before the sterilisation begins!”
“NO!” screamed the Doctor as he broke away and ran to the crowd.
He disappeared into the brawl just as he saw Atom’s chest ripped open by one of the rioters, wires and circuits pulled from his insides. He barged into the rioters and Atom fell to the ground with a thud. The Doctor dropped to his knees and knelt over Atom. His silver eyes looked up at the Doctor. He looked almost sad.
“Atom…”
“Save…Louisa…” said Atom, reaching a hand to the Doctor’s face and touching his cheek.
But it was too late. He saw Farrow above him and then felt something strike the top of his head. His vision turned blurry and he tipped and fell to his side.
The last thing he saw was an out of focus Louisa running towards him and the sky lighting up with bright, green light as the sirens continued to blare out…
He opened his eyes. It was quiet. It was almost peaceful. But something sounded wrong. There were no birds. No insects chirruping away.
Just the sound of deathly silence.
He felt his head. It was pounding and dried blood had trickled from the cut on his forehead onto the flagstones underneath him.
He felt weak. He felt dead himself.
He became aware of somebody standing behind him. He turned quickly and regretted it, his vision spinning before settling on Stakran, who stood over him, sadness on his face.
“What happened?” asked the Doctor, putting a hand to his cut.
“Jacarthia was sterilised,” said Stakran. “I managed to get myself and the councillors to your TARDIS just in time, but you weren’t so lucky.”
The Doctor suddenly realised what Stakran was saying and looked at his hands. They were glowing orange, splits of light threatening to erupt from them at any moment. He looked around him, there were bodies everywhere. Men, woman, children, rioters, guards, Farrow, Takmos…the ripped and dismantled body of Atom…
“You’re lucky you’re going to regenerate,” said Stakran. “The others weren’t so lucky. None of them were Time Lords.”
The Doctor closed his eyes. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to regenerate.”
“You have to,” said Stakran. “Life has to go on.”
His eyes continued to scan the bodies until they fixed on a white-dressed-figure. A beautiful, blonde girl, her hair dirty with mud and blood.
“Louisa,” he said, crawling over to her. He knelt over her and lifted her head.
“She’s gone, Doctor,” said Stakran. “If Gallifreyan’s couldn’t survive then there was no chance she would.”
“She should have been safe with me,” said the Doctor, cradling her head and closing her eyes. “This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened.”
“As I keep saying,” said Stakran. “We made the mistake. We have to accept it and move on.”
“I can’t move on from this,” said the Doctor. “She was supposed to be safe. We were so happy…”
“You have to.” Stakran knelt down beside him and put a hand on his arm. “We need to leave here. You’re going to regenerate and you need to be in the TARDIS when that happens.”
“Help me carry Louisa and Atom.”
“Doctor-”
“HELP ME!” he said, struggling to get to his feet.
“Okay,” said Stakran, nodding slowly. “Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll help.”
The two Time Lords made their way through the dead city, bodies strewn all over in the baking, afternoon sun, the Doctor carrying Louisa and Stakran carrying the remains of Atom. As they reached the friendly blue box of the TARDIS the Doctor turned to take one more look at the town, the white palace standing proud over the fallen city of Jacarthia, smoke rising from somewhere in it’s vicinity.
“I never should have come here,” said the Doctor. He looked back down at his hands. The regeneration was coming. He would be a new man. He would change.
“At least we’ll never come back again,” said Stakran.
“No,” said the Doctor. “I can never come back here - to Gallifrey - ever again.”
“What are you talking about, man?” said Stakran as he helped him through the doors.
“This town. This planet. These people. Gallifrey. The Time Lords. They’re dead to me. This place is just…nothing.” He looked down at Louisa again and leaned in to touch her cold forehead. “I’m so sorry, Louisa.” He leant forward and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well.”
A little while later the Doctor changed and he made himself forget and blocked out the pain.
But you can’t control the nightmares…
To be continued...
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